


Accidental Clumsiness

by Silent_So_Long



Series: otpprompts [29]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Clumsiness, M/M, Sexual Content, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr: otpprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-25 00:39:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3790141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard, Paul and more than a few bouts of accidental clumsiness</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accidental Clumsiness

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the following prompt posted on tumblr’s otpprompts: [Imagine that A has become rather clumsy to the point where A keeps tripping over B and having them fall on the floor in rather compromising/sexual positions (like A on top straddling B, A’s face on B’s crotch, etc), much to A’s embarrassment. For some reason it’s always when B is around and A keeps insisting that it’s due to coincidence or the cramped walking areas they’re in but B simply laughs it off while teasingly telling them “if you wanted sex THAT badly you could’ve just asked.”](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/116073201650/imagine-that-a-has-become-rather-clumsy-to-the)

Richard couldn’t have told anyone quite when he’d first started noticing Paul’s inherent clumsiness; he supposed that the other man had always been that way, an inherent character trait that was peculiar to Paul himself and to no one else in Rammstein. At first it had been small bouts of clumsiness, that happened occasionally, such as stumbling on the tour bus that could easily be explained away by overly sharp bends or bouts of sharp braking performed by the driver. Paul would always manage to stumble or thump down heavily beside Richard every time, with an embarrassed expression upon his face, cheeks slightly pink; Richard had smiled vaguely every time and took little notice other than to remark to himself that Paul really did look cute whilst stuck in the throes of a vague blush and acute embarrassment. 

Over time, Paul’s clumsiness began to grow worse, just odd bouts at first, such as the time Paul had tripped over a molecule of air on stage and had to grab a hold of Richard’s arm to stay upright. Richard had almost been startled into missing a few beats of the song, so startled had he been by Paul suddenly grabbing a hold of him. Again, as with every other time before, Paul had righted himself, although he looked more embarrassed than Richard had ever seen him. 

There also was the time during a gig in Rome that Paul had been walking backwards, away from the front of the stage, and he’d turned partially, before he’d caught Richard’s eye; they'd shared a smile, both euphoric over another great gig performed and an equally responsive audience, before, once again, Paul had tripped and crashed to the stage in front of Richard, before he’d stared helplessly with horror up at where Richard loomed over him. Even though Richard had initially laughed at him, still he’d bent and grabbed Paul’s swiftly raised hands to hoist the smaller man effortlessly to his feet. Paul had stepped in against Richard’s stocky body, hands resting upon Richard’s sides momentarily to steady himself before Paul had stepped away, cheeks vaguely tinged with an embarrassed shade of pink. Richard left one hand resting in the small of Paul's back, smile still stretching the corners of his mouth as they both took one final bow to the audience together. 

After that, things started to get gradually worse. Richard started to watch Paul ever more closely, keeping tally of every time that the other man would stumble and fall, ready to pick him up and check him over for injuries. Of course, Paul was never very seriously hurt, merely suffering a few minor scrapes and bruises that turned a rather pretty shade of purple, before blossoming into lurid green and yellow before disappearing entirely after a few days. 

And so it went on; Richard grew used to Paul’s clumsiness, seemed almost to not notice it quite so much anymore, as though that clumsiness was perhaps something to be taken for granted. It certainly became an almost ordinary part of Richard’s, and Paul’s, daily lives. Richard grew used to the warmth of Paul’s hand upon his arm, his shoulder or his back whenever Paul stumbled and fell against him; he even grew used to the times when Paul's body thudded full force against his, which forced a small grunt of surprise from Richard’s mouth even though the impact itself had not actually hurt.

The contact gradually became more welcome over time and soon invoked longing for contact of a different kind; Richard began to look to Paul and wish that they could share cuddles instead of trips, kisses instead of arm-grabs, sex instead of Paul’s body slamming against his in a stumble. Quite when Richard started looking at Paul as something other than just a friend, he wasn’t sure, yet the transition from friend to wanting something more from the other man was more than welcome, yet Richard never knew quite to say to Paul, how to broach the subject with him. Paul always seemed a little nervous in Richard’s presence, more so as the years rolled on, as though Paul was not quite so comfortable n Richard’s presence as he was with any of the other band members. Richard wondered if perhaps that was a bad thing and he didn’t like feeling like he ought to apologise for something that he didn't even know he’d done. 

Richard also couldn’t remember when he’d noticed the almost singular nature of Paul’s very clumsiness, yet notice it he eventually did; Paul always seemed to take a tumble whenever the other man was anywhere in the vicinity of Richard himself, a fact that slowly began to dawn on the rest of the band, as well. 

They were in Switzerland when Till first mentioned it in conversation; it still was early and they’d yawned their way into the hotel restaurant to grab some breakfast, before they dispersed for the day on separate errands before the gig that night. 

Richard had barely settled at the table with a plate filled with toast and a selection of various meats and cheeses, when Paul wandered up after him, obviously aiming to settle himself in the chair beside Richard. Richard offered him a half-sleepy smile, eyes still hooded from where he hadn’t properly awoken yet, when Paul suddenly stumbled and fell against Richard and thereby succeeded in filling Richard’s lap with Emmenthal cheese and heavily buttered toast. Richard cursed and half stood, before Paul, with a blazing-red face, batted Richard down into his seat again with insistent hands. Paul then proceeded to pick slices of bread and cheese from Richard’s lap; Richard tried to ignore just how close Paul’s fingers were to brushing against his cock. He found his body reacting to Paul’s continued presence; he tried not to imagine how Paul's deft fingers would feel actually on his cock, whether they would be gentle or firm, or how warm his palm would be whilst stroking him.

“And just what is going on over there?” Till asked, with a sudden, amused quirk to his mouth as he turned interested, teasing eyes upon Paul and Richard. 

“I dropped my fucking toast in Reesh’s lap, didn’t I?” Paul groaned, tone as embarrassed as his expression was. “And my cheese. All of it.” 

“Are you sure that’s all you’re touching there?” Till pressed, smile growing wider beneath the growing discomfort that started on Paul’s face and spread to Richard’s. 

Christoph suddenly snorted bright laughter into his cup of coffee, thereby spilling and sputtering a lot of the hot, dark liquid into his lap. He cursed as the scalding liquid connected with his leg and sizzled through the material of his trousers. Till typically didn’t take any notice, merely sipped quite innocently at his own coffee. 

“Have you noticed how often Paul seems to trip whenever he’s with Richard?” Till observed, loud enough so that the entire table and half of the next heard his seemingly innocuous question. “It does happen with alarming regularity, don’t you think?” 

“Till,” Flake said, with barely restrained irritation. 

“What?” Till asked, as he turned a smile on the vaguely frowning keyboard-player. 

“I don’t think there’s anything in what you’re saying.” Flake said.

“I don't know,” Christoph suddenly said, as he observed Paul through suddenly narrowed eyes. “I think Till has a point. Have you noticed that Paul seems quite stable around the rest of us? As if only Richard sends him off-balance.” 

“Does not,” Paul said, mumbling into his coffee, even as Richard generously shared some of his over-flowing plate with him. “It’s all a lie and a vicious rumour.” 

“Just food for thought for you all,” Till said, before falling silent, his job having apparently been done for now. 

A few days later and Rammstein were on their way to France, heading for the elegant chic of Parisian streets; Richard was laying sprawled and at ease on one of the comfy, over-stuffed seats in what passed for the living area in the bus, book propped lazily against his chest as he read. Paul clambered in from the direction of the bunks, hair still mussed and eyes still heavy with sleep. Paul yawned, and nodded out a silent greeting to Richard when the other man peered over the top of his book to stare at him. 

“Morning, Paulchen,” Richard said, even as Paul stumbled and face-planted directly in Richard's lap. “Jesus, Paul, if you wanted to give me a blow-job, you could have just asked first.” 

“Oh, fuck,” Paul said, voice muffled from where he still lay sprawled against Richard’s body. 

“I think that's what Richard’s hoping for,” Till said, as he walked past them on his way to the small bathroom. 

A few days later and Richard was half naked in his dressing room, shirt dangling from his fingers as Paul wandered in, considerably more dressed than Richard was. Paul’s foot managed to find the only piece of clothing draped on the floor and he fell forward to land squarely face first in Richard’s chest, unbalancing the other man so that they both fell on the floor, Paul distinctly on top and straddling Richard. 

“Really, Paul, we have to stop meeting like this,” Richard said, with a grin at the other man. “I told you before, if you really want sex, then all you have to do is ask.” 

Paul mumbled something incomprehensible before he rolled and scurried away, undoubtedly back to the relative safety of his own dressing room, where he couldn’t cause harm or embarrass himself unduly. Richard watched him leave with something like a mixture of confusion and growing sadness; once again, he was left with the feeling that he’d done something wrong, yet, when he racked his brains for the solution to his problem, he couldn’t remember or even work out quite what he’d done. He was left with having to do nothing more than shrug the feeling off, and leave Paul to his own devices for yet another day, week, month, perhaps. 

:::

Paul silently lay alone in his bed that night, cursing himself for all the times that he’d tripped and fell against Richard; whilst he’d always been given over to bouts of clumsiness in the past, said clumsiness was growing steadily worse and it was becoming more than a little bit of a problem for Paul. He thought back to the years of his youth, when he’d been a troubled, possibly troublesome, teenager and the bouts of clumsiness had started. Those bouts always corresponded exactly to his feelings directed towards someone, that he admired or even all out had great affection or feelings for; the pattern had long since become familiar to Paul to know why it had started happening now, with Richard. His feelings for the other man ran deeper than just friendship and had for a while; in Richard, he saw a confidante, a friend, a lover, in time, if only Richard would permit it. Paul wasn’t sure, but the fact that Richard never did anything untoward to him, neither grew unduly angry nor actively pushed Paul away whenever Paul would trip and fall against him gave Paul some hope. Richard, instead, seemed amused, not angry, smiling instead of scowling, teasing instead of openly cursing and swearing at him; Paul had thought he’d even seen a few admiring looks directed his way whenever he’d fallen against Richard, whilst the other man’s hand rubbed warmly against a bared arm or shoulder, or merely just rested against Paul's back as though reluctant to relinquish contact so soon after it had been accidentally initiated. 

After the latest embarrassing incident aboard the tour-bus, Paul tried to avoid Richard, which initially proved to be easier than expected; most often he stayed within the realms of his tour-bus bed, or in his hotel room. At the times when he could not avoid being with the rest of the band, such as at sound check or, more awkwardly, onstage, he tried to keep as much distance as he could from Richard. 

He could feel Richard’s curious stares weighing heavily upon him, and couldn’t help but notice the way that the other man had taken to looking troubled since Paul had begun to keep his distance; Richard’s eyes were filled with an untamed hurt, which inevitably made Paul felt guilty. He hadn’t expected the other man to take the situation so personally; in fact, Paul had thought that he would have been glad of the respite from being akin to Paul’s personal crash-mat.

Paul knew that the self-imposed respite would not last forever and, of course, it did not; in actuality it lasted all of three days. Richard managed to corner Paul in a hotel in Bologna, broad-shouldered body all but pinning Paul against the corridor wall, mere feet from Paul’s room; Paul tried to winnow past, making polite, laugh filled excuses about needing to crash before he fell down, whilst tiredness tugged at the backs of his eyes. 

“Fuck tiredness, Paul,” Richard said, in the face of Paul’s laughing excuses. “You’re avoiding me, and I want to know why.”

“I’m not avoiding you," Paul prevaricated, but he knew he wasn’t a very good liar.

His lies were evident in his face and the way that his head dipped down and to the side, gaze unable to meet Richard’s own all of a sudden. He shuffled his feet as best as he could against the closeness of Richard’s trapping body; the other man was so close, Paul could feel the warmth baking from him and that warmth, Richard’s closeness, Richard himself, felt so good, so impossibly right against him that Paul wanted to just wrap both arms around him, to lay his head against Richard’s shoulder and just breathe in Richard’s scent and everything that made up Richard. He blinked, tried to dispel such unsettling thoughts. 

“Paul,” Richard said and it was only then that Paul realized that Richard had been talking and Paul had heard not a word of it. 

“Yeah,” Paul said. “I’m listening.”

“You weren’t,” Richard said, pointedly, but he didn’t look annoyed when Paul glanced up at him. “Or you would have heard what I said.”

“What did you say?” Paul said, biting back his pride to ask. 

“I asked if I’d done something wrong. I feel like I've offended you or upset you or something, y’know? You’ve never kept out of my way before now,” Richard said.

Paul shrugged and determinedly remained silent.

“Paul, for fuck’s sake,” Richard said, and it was only then that Paul realised that Richard sounded genuinely aggrieved. “I’m not a kid, and, last time, I checked, neither are you. I won’t cry if I find out I’ve hurt you in some way. If I have, then I’m sorry and I‘ll try and do something to make amends.” 

“You’ve done nothing," Paul replied, even as he realized that Richard actually had a point. 

“’Oh, shit, don’t give me that whole - it’s not you, it’s me - bull-shit,” Richard said, and his aggravation became more apparent on his face, in his eyes. 

“I wasn’t going to,” Paul insisted. “But I’m just giving you a break.”

“From what?” Richard asked, looking genuinely perplexed now. 

“You can’t enjoy me falling all over you every day,” Paul said. “I swear I’m not usually this clumsy. Only around people I like.” 

Paul cursed inwardly at that; he hadn’t meant to reveal so much so soon, if at all. 

“People you - ? But you’re not clumsy around the rest of the band,” Richard said. “Are you saying you hate everyone else or something?”

“Don’t be dense, Reesh,” Paul said, with a snort of suddenly angry derision that seemed disproportionate to the situation. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” 

“Enlighten me,” Richard said, but it looked as though he’d guessed at Paul’s meaning all the same. 

“I’ve always been like this,” Paul said, as he pointed down at his own body. “Becoming clumsy whenever I have feelings for someone else. You know what I’m saying.” 

Paul watched as Richard’s head dipped down and for one brief moment, he thought that Richard wasn’t going to say anything at all. Then Richard glanced up at him and Paul thought he saw hope mixed with relief and understanding reflected in Richard’s eyes, as though something in Paul’s words had meant something to the other man. Paul was glad that at least Richard didn’t look annoyed; instead, the other man even went so far as to smile a little at him and that alone gave him hope. 

“Why couldn’t you have told me?” Richard asked. 

“And been rejected like I have been so many times before? No thanks,” Paul replied, with a derisive snort.

“I wouldn’t have rejected you,” Richard said, voice pitched low and quiet.

Paul merely stared at him at close range, trying to determine whether Richard was perhaps having a laugh at his expense; the longer that he stared at the other man, the more he realized that he‘d never seen Richard quite so serious before.

“I’m not kidding, Paulchen,” Richard said, as he reached up to lay one awkward hand on Paul’s shoulder. “Have you ever known me to push you away whenever you fell on my lap for instance?” 

“No,” Paul replied, after a brief pause. 

“Ever wondered why that was?” Richard asked, with an arch lift of his eyebrows at Paul.

Paul stared at Richard, as he thought of all the times that Richard had smiled at him, had touched him in an almost proprietary manner, and the times that he’d made an off-colour comment that Paul had once assumed were jokes. 

“Ah,” Paul said, as the enormity of the situation finally sank in for him. 

Richard merely smiled, but didn’t say anything. Paul didn‘t immediately speak, either; the ensuing silence stretched on until it grew uncomfortable.

“So now what?” Paul finally asked, needing to say something, anything so that the silence just went away and left him alone. 

“What do people normally do in situations like this?” Richard retorted. 

“I don’t know,” Paul said, with a shrug. “You haven’t asked me out, yet.” 

“Neither have you,” Richard pointed out.

“Well, consider yourself asked,” Paul shot back, with a snort.

“That wasn’t the smoothest proposition I’ve ever had, but I’ll take it as it comes, I suppose,” Richard said, with a grin that slowly spread across his face and warmed his eyes. 

Paul merely laughed at him, eyes never leaving the other man’s face for a moment. 

“And the answer’s yes,” Richard said, when it became obvious that Paul was not going to offer further words. 

“Good,” Paul said, with a nod.

Richard merely smiled before he dared to lean in, to nuzzle his nose against Paul’s. Paul huffed out a laugh at that, but returned the nuzzle, surprised when the gesture felt normal, natural, as though it was always meant to happen. Richard looked as though he wanted to kiss Paul and for one aching moment, Paul wanted him to, yet the other man drew away reluctantly, sudden sigh gusting warm breath against his cheek.

“Go to bed, Paulchen,” Richard said, quietly. “We’ll talk about this more tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Paul replied, and could not quite hide his disappointment.

Richard caught a hold of that disappointment and sighed again, and reaching out to tug at Paul’s when the other man stepped away from him. Wordlessly Richard pulled Paul into a rough hug, hand smoothing circles into Paul's back; Paul closed his eyes, relaxed into Richard’s warmth, glad for the contact if nothing else. He felt Richard press a rough and awkward kiss against the side of his neck, which made Paul smile.

“Give it time, Paul,” Richard told him. “I said yes, didn’t I?” 

“Yeah,” Paul replied, even as he grinned up at the other man. “Well, I suppose it’s a good night, then.”

“It is now,” Richard said before he tipped a wink and a grin at Paul. “And gute Nacht, Paulchen.”

Paul nodded and watched as Richard strolled away, hands in his pockets; Paul grinned at Richard when the other man cast a glance over his shoulder at him. Richard returned the grin and then he was gone, into his own room once more.

::::

The weeks dragged on and so did the tour. Whilst Paul’s clumsiness continued unabated, at least Richard had explanation for it and it did not hinder their relationship at all. Rather, it seemed to enhance it. Richard was there to catch Paul whenever he fell, turning the clumsy stumble into a hug or a kiss or oftentimes both. Paul always resurfaced with a laugh and a grateful, teasing hug and kiss in return. 

Then the teasing started to become more serious, the hugs lengthier, the kisses deeper, the occasional steadying hand turning into an all out grope. Paul returned each hug, each kiss, even the gropes, which led Richard to wonder if perhaps Paul was starting to stumble on purpose as well as by accident. He didn’t mind if that was the case; it just gave him another excuse to hold the other man.

Then Paul began to go to Richard for hugs, for kisses without a preceding stumble; more than once, they were discovered by one of the other band members, standing in a darkened, supposedly private corner, mouths locked into kisses, Richard’s hands resting firmly against Paul’s butt. Only Till outwardly teased, whilst Flake sometimes complained; the others merely smiled and turned a blind eye to proceedings. 

It was when the Rammstein tour rolled its fiery way into Vienna that things began to take another, more serious turn for Paul and for Richard. The show that night was a particularly good one for all of them and the excitement, and the buzz of a good performance had still not abated by the time that they returned to their hotel. Richard, not wanting to spend the night alone, soon invited Paul into his room; Paul was quick to take up the other man’s offer, eyes gleaming with excitement and a bright smile curving his mouth impishly at the corners. 

Paul tumbled into Richard’s room, with Richard his constant shadow; the door snicked quietly shut after them, before Richard’s hand fumbled with the light switch, snapping the light on so that it flooded the room with a harsh white glow. Paul blinked against the sudden brightness, until Richard’s mouth distracted him with a sudden kiss, lips moving awkwardly against lips until they found purchase and stayed. Richard’s hands travelled over Paul’s body, and walked him backwards, aiming the other man towards the bed that dominated the centre of the room.

Paul didn’t even have time to reach the bed under his own power, before his boots caught on something and nothing and he tumbled backwards, limbs akimbo and a sudden surprised curse falling harshly from his lips. He managed to twist himself onto the bed, in an ungainly heap; Richard laughed, before he settled on the bed beside him in a more relaxed manner, soon snuggling up to Paul. Paul’s initial grievance over stumbling again was forgotten, when Richard’s hands traced patterns against his back, pushed his t shirt over his body so that it exposed the long line of his torso. He closed his eyes when he felt Richard’s caressing hands mapping out every line of him, sending shudders through his body when he touched particularly sensitive places. 

In time, their clothes were removed, hitting the floor with barely heard little thumps; Paul and Richard were too invested in one other to take much notice of anything else. Paul groaned when he felt the first warm press of Richard's body against his, skin pliant and giving beneath his touch; he could feel the hard line of Richard’s erection against his thigh, sliding against his skin. He didn’t protest when he felt Richard maneuvering him onto his back; Richard’s weight was welcome against him when the other man eased on top of him. 

His weight lifted away again as he fetched the lube from his still packed case, and Paul couldn’t help but wonder to himself if Richard had been expecting something to happen between them for quite some time; he didn't get the chance to question him, however, as Richard began to prepare Paul and all thoughts fled from Paul‘s mind. Richard‘s fingers were teasing and light at first, before his caresses turned a little rougher when Paul responded, hips rising and falling against Richard’s questing palm, eyes closed, groans leaking past parted lips, flush staining his cheeks with bright colour. Richard eased away, to spread more lube over his cock and then he laid atop Paul, guided himself into the other man; he felt the pressure of Paul’s hands against his shoulder-blades, fingers digging and twisting into his flesh and easing away again when Paul settled out beneath him. Then their bodies began to move, hips thrusting against hips, moans battling for dominance in the space left between them and Richard was gone, lost to the man responsive beneath him, as though every tumble, every stumble and ill-timed fall of Paul’s had led to this one perfect moment and it felt right to him, as though it was meant to be.

Paul’s every breath caught in his throat, backing up and bursting forth into loud moans of Richard's name; his hands caressed the other man’s body, whilst his heels dug sharply into the small of Richard’s back. Paul came, with a loud cry of Richard‘s name, and he arched up, chest pressing against the other man‘s in a sweaty line as Richard held him through his climax. He was only dimly aware of the other man’s release, before they settled back against sweaty sheets and pillows, to lay still for a while. 

Richard eased away after a while, hand a trapping, almost possessive weight against Paul’s abdomen; Richard found that he didn’t want to stop touching Paul, needed the comfort and the warmth of Paul’s skin beneath his own. Paul seemed to understand him, for he smiled and laid one hand atop his own, fingers bearing down with affectionate weight before that weight was gone and Paul’s hand returned to rest upon Richard’s hip as though Paul, too, needed the comfort of Richard’s naked body against his, if only minimally.

They didn’t speak, yet there were words aplenty in each other's eyes - words like - finally - and - relief - and - fantastic - and even - love. They shared a smile but didn’t move; in time, they made their way to the bathroom and the flowing warm waters of the shower. They shared that shower, hands roaming freely over newly learned bodies, fingers still exploring where to touch to make the other feel good. 

After leaving the warm confines of the shower, they dried each other off with surprisingly thick and fluffy towels, before they tumbled back to bed again. Richard didn’t even have to ask Paul to stay; Paul seemed to take it as read that Richard wanted him to remain with him for the night. They settled beneath the covers together, but did little more than kiss and to grin dumbly at each other beneath the shielding cover of the sheets. Paul finally curled up against Richard, with a loud yawn that blasted heated air against Richard’s naked chest, hair tickling against his skin with every movement that Paul made.

“Go to sleep, now, Paulchen,” Richard murmured against the top of Paul’s head.

Paul mumbled something nonsensical against his chest, even as he settled more comfortably against Richard's body. It didn’t take long for Paul to slide into sleep against him, limbs heavy and breath heavier; Richard smiled and closed his eyes, before blissful sleep took him in its warm embrace as well.


End file.
